


Against the Wall

by d__T



Series: Going Straight to Hell on Transcon 1 [3]
Category: Mad Max (1979)
Genre: Blood, Blowjobs, First Meeting, Knives, M/M, but not knifeplay, gagging, grossness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-01
Updated: 2015-11-01
Packaged: 2018-04-28 11:49:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5089637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/d__T/pseuds/d__T
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Diabando has no chill, and Starbuck falls for it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Against the Wall

“So how did you guys meet?”

Oh, he’s so innocent these days. Like they didn’t meet in a storm of lies and backstabbing. He could be forgiven, for not suspecting. So lovable now, long knife and ax and predatory instincts.

Diabando and Starbuck share a look and start laughing. “Sure, sure.”

——

They met in a oppressively hot and tense room. Not the frontmen, or the right hands to the negotiations at the tables, but the weapons that lean against the wall in the darkened fringes. The eyes watching for the slightest signal to throw it all sideways.

And of course, it went sideways. Aggressively. Someone lied, or was accused of lying. Same thing, when the scrip speaks a third truth that no one in the room is party to. Diabando’s spent the entire civil part of this fiasco making exaggerated flirty faces at Starbuck from across the room, who has just been pointedly scowling at him in return. No fun at all, although the faces are edging past "flirty" to the land of highly suggestive when the man on Diabando’s side of the table stands up, picks his chair up, and slams the other guy with it.

There’s slight signals, and then there’s throwing chairs, and the brawl is well underway. Which is how they come to Starbuck crushing Diabando against a wall with his long knife slick against the blond’s throat with dead and dying men around them. Neither of them are uninjured, tomorrow they’ll be nursing crudely done stitches and bruises, but for now they’re hyped out of their minds on adrenaline and pain. Blood spattered and gory and keen.

“The fuck was alla that, back there.”

Diabando grunts and grinds his ass back against Starbuck’s hips. “Bastard. Ya know, ya know exactly.”

The blade turns against his throat, and now the flat of the blade is smearing blood between his jaw and his Adam’s apple. He doesn’t swallow, simply shoves back again. “Ya gonna fuck me, or ya just gonna lean on me?”

Starbuck growls. “Fuck you.”

“Or, I blow ya, an’ ya put that fuckin’ knife away, yeah?” It’s a sound suggestion, really. The blade tightens against his throat.

“I feel the thought of using teeth cross your mind, yer gonna lose yer face. Put the ax away, you first, lovely.”

He lets the ax slide in his hand, the blade of it close to his hand and rendering it near useless. It’s the best he’s gonna do, with the way Starbuck has him pinned. “Gonna hafta let me down, babe.”

Starbuck turns him roughly so they’re face to face, but never lets him loose. “Yeah?”

And straight shoves him down, trapped between his body and the wall. The ax is tucked back into his belt where it belongs and when he looks up from that, Starbuck’s already got his cock out. The knife has gone away somewhere, and his other hand lands in his hair and yanks his head up. Diabando licks his lips, and discovers that there’s blood on his face from the taste, and sucks it into his mouth.

Starbuck lets him take it as his own pace as it hardens quickly in his mouth, but that’s soon over. He braces one arm against the wall, the other still in Diabando’s hair, and facefucks him. Hot, hard and brutal. It’s everything Diabando can do to keep his teeth from showing as he gags and Starbuck curses.

Internally, he’s cursing himself to relax and make it easy to take but the erection caught tight in his pants is distracting him even beyond the choking. He coughs on the inhale, a gross wet sound, and then Starbuck slams his cock all the way down into the back of his throat and holds him there as he comes.

Diabando can feel his body rebelling against what is far more than an intrusion but he’s released and he turns his head and spits. Not cum, that went down his throat, but the bile that’d come up after it.

“Fuck, man.”

Starbuck is panting above him, so Diabando slides out between his legs and not-so-subtly adjusts his cock.

“We good?”

Starbuck nods. “Yeah, real good.”

Diabando wipes his mouth, a smear of blood and saliva across the back of his hand. He sneers at it, and then ignores it and the mess his face must be.

“’ll be seeing ya, then.” He doesn’t wait for a reply as he hooks the door open with his boot and strides through.

—–

“Well, my boss tried to kill his, and then we tried to kill each other. Didn’t quite work out.” Diabando takes a swallow from his beer with a disgustingly smug look.

Starbuck laughs. “You could put it that way, I suppose.”


End file.
